


Partner Swap

by Emma_Trevelyan



Series: Dragon Age: Foursome [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Cunnilingus, Explicit Sex, F/F, F/M, Fingering, Foursome, M/M, Mild D/s, Mild F/F, Partner Swapping, Threesome, Vaginal Sex, Vouyerism, Watching, mild m/m
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-29
Updated: 2015-11-29
Packaged: 2018-05-03 23:29:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5311181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emma_Trevelyan/pseuds/Emma_Trevelyan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cullen and Emma want to expand their activities int he bedroom. Cullen has some old friends that may help with that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Partner Swap

**Author's Note:**

  * For [felandaris](https://archiveofourown.org/users/felandaris/gifts).



Emma had never felt more conflicted in her young life. When she’d met Cullen, she’d been fairly inexperienced, yet she knew people. At least, she thought she did. So she figured she had him pegged, sexually speaking—fairly vanilla, sweet and tender and loving, and most of all, monogamous. The first presumption was broken for their first time; he could be sweet and vanilla as easily as he could be domineering, bossy, and rough.

And she _liked_ it.

He never pushed too far. He always discussed things with her in advance and in detail. If she wasn’t comfortable with something he brought up, he dropped it completely and didn’t seem all that bothered by it. They would move on. He didn’t give her a watch word—something Dorian and the Iron Bull used—because, in his words, she was inexperienced and simply saying ‘stop’ would be enough for him. He pressed against the increasingly-fragile walls of her comfort zone gently, coaxing her out with soft kisses punctuated with sharp slaps to her pert ass. Every time she felt she’d explored everything she could possibly do in the bedroom, he introduced one more thing. It was a gentle exploration of the darker side of her sexuality, and every time a new boundary was found and crossed, she amazed even herself.

One afternoon, they were sprawled on her bed. He was kissing the rope burns on her wrist—she would apply healing magic later, so it didn’t matter much, but the care he took with her after their rougher sessions warmed her from her scalp to her toes. She was sipping a glass of water, feeling the afterglow settle around her like a down comforter.

“You did wonderfully, angel,” Cullen sighed, nuzzling the inside of her wrist and pressing a lingering kiss to her palm. She shuddered when his stubble rasped over the delicate skin on her forearm. “Is there anything I can get you?”

“This is perfect,” she murmured, leaning into his touches.

There was a comfortable—if tentative—silence. Cullen wanted to ask her something—something important, it seemed, if the way he worried his lower lip was any indication—but he didn’t want their previous session to influence her decision. Sometimes, she could understand, because she felt languid and sleepy and satisfied. Other times, she felt energetic and alert—like she could take on the world. Now was one of those times.

“Something bothering you, darling?” she asked softly, cupping his jaw. She felt his pulse jump under her fingers.

“No,” he replied. He leaned into her touch, his amber eyes fluttering closed. He sighed deeply. “Just… there was something rather time sensitive I wanted to ask you about.”

“And you waited until _now?”_ she quipped, indicating their naked bodies under her sheets. “Cullen, what’s up?”

He sighed, a light laugh escaping through his nose; “I have a friend coming to Skyhold in about a week. His wife is coming with him for the first time in… a long time. I wanted to run something by you.”

Emma shifted, nuzzling into his space; “Shoot.”

“Well,” Cullen rubbed at the back of his neck, averting his gaze. “I was wondering if you would consider partner swapping.”

“As in…” Emma swallowed hard. “I have sex with your friend, and…”

“I have sex with his wife, yes,” Cullen blushed deeply—something he hadn’t done in front of her in some time. Not since he’d brought up the idea of Domination play.

“Would we be… in separate rooms, or?”

“No, angel. It would be together. All of us,” he sighed, burrowing into the crook of her shoulder. She could feel his deep sigh against her. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“Cullen, don’t say that,” she assured. She ran a soothing hand over his arm, sucking her bottom lip between her teeth.

She’d honestly never considered something like this, but she knew Cullen. She thought that sometimes, he got off on his jealousy a little bit. When she had to interact with noblemen intent on spiriting her away and wooing her, his eyes would get this dark quality; the sex afterwards would be _incredible._ So she imagined—new hands on her, learning her spots, worshiping her body, while Cullen watched; desperate to touch her but unable to. She imagined Cullen’s strong body over another woman, touching her, bringing her to the incredible heights he brought Emma every night. She imagined those powerful muscles clenching in his climax; she even allowed herself the fantasy of bending between this mystery woman’s legs, and tasting her… Cullen’s spend and her juices mingling on Emma’s tongue. She shuddered violently.

“Emma?” Cullen pulled her back into the present with a soft hand on her jaw.

“If they want to,” Emma’s voice was dark and throaty. The whole idea aroused her like little else. “Then I’m up for it.”

Cullen grinned darkly; “You won’t be disappointed.”

~~~

Emma really wished he’d told her that his ‘friends’ were Alistair and Lynn Theirin, king and queen of Ferelden, the latter of which was Hero of Ferelden. And of course, Emma wasn’t the only one scrambling at this sudden and unexpected visit. Josephine was absolutely horrified that Cullen’s ‘visitors’ were royalty, and without her knowledge.

“Please, your Majesties!” Josephine gave a low curtsy. “I beg forgiveness; we were not informed of your arrival, and the keep is not suitable.”

Lynn gave a short, breathy laugh, dismounting from her massive horse; “Please, Lady Montilyet, that was quite our intention. We’re here as friends and comrades, not visiting royalty.” Lynn folded Leliana into a tight hug that lingered for a beat longer than a friendly embrace. Cullen and Alistair were talking in low tones, arms clasped in a brotherly hold.

The king and queen certainly made an attractive couple. Alistair was tall and broad, with strawberry-blonde hair and warm, hazel eyes. A dusting of freckles—a strangely boyish feature on the rugged, scarred face—covered his nose and high, full cheeks, while a set of perfectly full lips grinned below his long, straight nose. Where Alistair was rugged and big and golden; Lynn was small, lithe and dark. She was rail thin with fine, delicate features—a thin, straight nose, pouty lips, and wide, chocolate-colored eyes. Her long, chestnut hair was in a thick braid over her shoulder. They were easily two of the most beautiful people Emma had ever seen, and when Lynn sent her a coquettish wink, she felt her knees get…wobbly.

Lynn turned towards Cullen with a brilliant smile and fairly launched herself at him; “Oh, it’s so good to see you, Cullen!”

“You too, Lynn,” he murmured, crushing her to his chest. “How are the children?”

“Huge, and growing like weeds,” she sighed. “I missed them, but thankfully Fergus was happy to take them for a while. They love it in Highever.”

“Lynn, this is Emma Trevelyan,” Cullen grinned widely, reaching for Emma’s hand. “Emma, this is my good friend, Lynn Cousland… sorry, Lynn Theirin.”

“Quite alright,” Lynn replied easily. She gave Emma an appraising glance and apparently liked what she saw, if the quirk of her lips was any indicator. “Charmed, Emma. I assume our dear Cullen has… spoken with you about us?”

Emma blushed deeply. She’d never thought herself attracted to women, but _Maker,_ she couldn’t take her eyes off of Lynn’s pouty lips, her slim figure, her long legs… Alistair was no push-over in the looks department either. She imagined those large hands on her and could barely contain the groan of desire bubbling in her chest.

“Yes, and I’m intrigued to… get to know you better.”

~~~

About an hour after dinner that night, the foursome found themselves in Emma’s quarters. Lynn is spread languidly over the sofa, her knees parted and her cheeks flushed. Alistair pressed against her hip, his arm thrown lovingly over her shoulder, while Cullen adopted a casual stance in her armchair. Emma was ramrod straight on her ottoman.

“So…” she began, feeling her pulse jump in her throat. “How does this work?”

“Well, we need to set some rules,” Alistair replied. He was gazing at Emma with raw, naked lust, taking her in from her form-fitting black leggings all the way to the gentle swell of her breasts beneath her tight, low-cut shirt. He lingered on her cleavage, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “We all need to be in this room, or wherever we decide to _play._ No separate parties.”

“Agreed,” Cullen interjected. “And no watchwords. “Stop” should be sufficient, considering this is Emma’s first experience like this.”

Lynn quirked a brow at the younger woman; Emma squirmed in her seat.

“I find it hard to believe a pretty thing like you didn’t get all the boys or girls she wanted,” Lynn sighed.

Emma flushed; she needed to start controlling her attraction for this woman. The whole exchange made her…excited? Nervous? Maybe both. She’d never had such a frank discussion about sex with another couple like this. It was thrilling, if odd.

“So when should we begin?” Alistair interrupted her train of thought with his low, dark voice.

All eyes were on her; she suddenly felt more at ease, and instantly, she understood.

_They’re letting me take the lead._

She crossed her legs, pushing her hips out to the edge of the ottoman; “Right now’s good for me. If it’s good for you.”

Alistair shot a look at Cullen; the other man nodded with a smirk, and before she could process the move, Alistair was over her. His face was unnervingly close—so much she could see the starburst of gold in his hazel eyes. He went slowly, as if to give her time to say no. But with his incredible scent overwhelming her senses and the way heat pooled in her core, she wouldn’t say no. She felt a nervous tremor in her legs before Alistair lowered his lips to hers.

He kissed…differently than Cullen. While Cullen is measured and controlled in his roughness, Alistair is sloppy tenderness. He presses those pouty lips to hers, his tongue sneaking out to lap at the seam of her mouth in measured flicks. She parts her lips to invite him in, and he surges forward with such enthusiasm, he has to snake his arms around her waist to stop her from toppling backwards. She grabs onto his broad shoulders, feeling the play of the hard muscles under her fingers.

He presses against her knees, and she spreads her thighs for him. He scoots closer to her, settling himself flush, and groans against her lips; “Maker, I can _feel_ how hot you are.”

Emma flushed furiously as he peppered her jaw and neck with soft kisses. Emma turned to nuzzle his strong jaw, feeling tiny puffs of air send shivers across her chest. She darted her soft tongue out to lick at his earlobe; he jumped as if he’d been shocked with a sharp, falsetto gasp. He fisted his hands in her back, digging his short nails into her bare skin.

Emma turned her eyes towards Lynn, who was giggling; “He’s very sensitive there. I’d recommend trying that again.”

“You’re a demon, Lynn, you know that,” Alistair murmured from Emma’s shoulder.

Emma smirked and licked Alistair’s earlobe again; a visible shiver ran up his spine in time with the curl of her tongue. His breathing sped and shallowed as she pulled the lobe through her lips, suckling lightly, worrying over it with gentle teeth. She moved her hands, one into his hair and one across his shoulders. She fisted the short hair tightly, yanking his head to the side with just enough force. She laved over the sensitive spot, thrilling at the feel of this powerful man, this commander of a nation, at her mercy.

She snaked the tip of her tongue to the sensitive, oft ignored patch of skin just behind his ear. She drew shapes—spirals, stars, circles—with the dexterous muscle. He tasted like salt and sweat and something that was distinctly masculine. He smelled like balsams and musk—it was a heady combination.

“I’m feeling a bit left out, Cullen,” she heard Lynn coo.

The sound of the armchair moving was near deafening as Cullen moved to the sofa. Emma’s blue eyes flickered to the other two; Cullen’s big body was already hovering over Lynn, and he was already pushing soft kisses over the corners of her mouth. She moaned softly, rolling her slim hips up and splaying her thighs. She was certainly more confident than Emma; that much was for sure.

Cullen bore Lynn down into the sofa, wasting no time as he settled his hips between her long, lean thighs. He rolled forward in an unsubtle gesture, grasping her hips in a bruising grip. Lynn buried her hands into that gorgeous sandy hair of his and jerked his head to the side, attacking his lips.

“Maker, Cullen,” she moaned, a low breathy sound in her throat. Cullen growled as he hitched her hips up and bit on her bottom lip _ever_ so gently, eliciting another low moan.

Emma suddenly felt fingers in her long, blonde hair; with a sharp yank that was just on the right side of painful, Alistair bent Emma into a graceful bow away from his ear and jaw. He grinned silently at her, knowing he had her at his mercy, as he moved a hand up the inside of her thigh. He pressed a knuckle against the top of her sex through her breeches and smalls; the pressure was delicious, but when she tried to grind her hips against his hand, he pulled away.

“She’s eager, isn’t she?” he sighed, brushing his knuckles down the side of her tensed neck. He turned his hand and placed in against her throat—not enough to constrict, but it was a possessive gesture and just this side of too rough. She thrilled at the unfamiliar touch.

“Always has been,” Cullen groaned. His amber gaze was turned on her, and the heat behind his eyes burned.

Cullen returned his ministrations to Lynn, swallowing her tiny moans while his rough kisses turned her into a quivering mess. Emma felt a strange pride bloom in her chest, and instead of feeling jealousy, she felt almost smug. That pleasure usually belonged to her; she knew exactly what Lynn was feeling, and how good it was and _she_ was sharing… because _she_ allowed it. She felt powerful.

She felt Alistair’s strong fingers skim down her body, not once tearing that beautiful hazel gaze from hers; his fingers snuck under her shirt and he gave her a smile that was at once possessive, domineering, and endearingly… _shy._

“May I?” he asked, his voice a low, throaty growl.

“Please,” Emma breathed. His swordsman’s calluses—at once familiar and foreign—skimmed over the sensitive skin over her ribs; he whisked her shirt over her head, exposing her to the cool air. She drew in a hiss when her breast band flew off with a soft _click_.

“Maker, you’re beautiful,” he breathed, descending on her breasts with enthusiastic abandon.

Emma braced her arms on the back of the ottoman as confident hands kneaded the soft flesh. He twisted the taught, pink nipple between his fingers, sending a shot of lightning straight to her clit. She could feel the soft slide of her arousal pool between her thighs, and she knew her breeches would have a wet spot on them.

“I can smell how much you want me,” Alistair growled, low in his throat. He pulled her forward, kissing first one nipple, then the other. His teeth snuck out to softly nibble, and then suck, the painfully hard points. She shuddered hard, surprised at the submissive whimper that escaped her lips.

Cullen seemed to have similar ideas, as he’d pushed Lynn’s shirt to expose her breasts. They were smaller, and more pert, than Emma’s, though apparently no less sensitive. Cullen’s large hand engulfed the small mound, and he moaned when he felt the nipple harden against his palm. He had Lynn’s arms pinned behind her back, and she was helplessly rutting against Cullen, begging for friction she couldn’t get.

“Beautiful, isn’t she?” Alistair whispered in Emma’s ear, licking a long purposeful line up her neck. He bit harshly on her pulse point and she jumped. His hands skimmed over her thighs, fisting over the fabric of her breeches. “Mind if we ditch these? I would love to touch you.”

Emma felt a shudder work down her spine—his words were so sincere and yet so distinctly _sexual_ ; she nodded, sucking her bottom lip in through her teeth. Alistair grinned widely, a soft kiss at the corner of her mouth, before working his deft hands into the waistband of her breeches.

“Come on, darling, up up.”

She stood on wobbly legs, planting her hands firmly on his shoulders while he worked her breeches to the floor. He gave an appreciative hum, nuzzling against the soft skin of her bare hip. In a bold fit of spontaneity, she’d elected to forgo smalls for the evening, and once Alistair’s knuckles started brushing over the bare lips at the apex of her thighs, she thanked Andraste or whoever was listening for her foresight.

“Daring, isn’t she?” Cullen purred.

Emma’s eyes darted toward the sofa; Cullen’s long hand had snuck into the front of Lynn’s breeches and smalls. The slight movement of his fingers beneath the fabric left no illusions as to his actions; Lynn was writhing beneath his touch, her dark eyes lust-blown and heavily lidded. She caught Emma’s gaze, and Emma felt a sharp jolt work her way through her core. Her fingers tightened on Alistair’s shoulders as he rose from his kneeling position.

Emma whirled on him, grasping at the hem of his shirt and yanking upwards, her fit of boldness overtaking her. With a breathless chuckle, Alistair whisked the material over his head, letting it flutter to the floor. Emma sucked in a breath—he was so gorgeous, with his rosy skin and hard muscles. She was especially drawn to the dusting of freckles on his Adonis Belt, so much so she couldn’t resist reaching out to touch them. She grinned wickedly when his breath hitched and his stomach jumped.

“Bed,” he growled, his hazel eyes dark with lust. “ _Now._ ”

Emma swallowed and nodded, backing towards her bed, sinking into the foot of the soft mattress. Alistair descended on her with a grin and jerked her thighs open, revealing her glistening lips to the air. Emma sucked in a sharp breath when, without warning, he descended on her.

Cullen usually teased her with kisses around her thighs, around her labia, licking in long strokes before finally giving her the insistent pressure of his tongue. So when Alistair went straight for her clit, hardening his tongue into a point and pushing back the hood with short, hard strokes, she nearly came on the spot. He drew her legs over his broad shoulders, opening her wide. He made low, appreciative, _hungry_ noises as he ate her out with gusto. His tongue was everywhere, from the hood of her clit all the way to her damp opening and back up again. He varied his technique, from tiny flickers of the very tip of his tongue to long, slow licks with the flat from the bottom to the top. Emma wanted to slide her eyes closed and ride out her orgasm until she couldn’t remember her own name, but something about the sight of Alistair beneath her legs, worshipping her cunt, was too heady an image to shake or shut out. He opened his eyes, not once pausing in his ministrations, as he indicated their partners on the couch. She more felt than heard him say, “ _Watch._ ”

Cullen had Lynn in an exact mirrored position as Emma and Alistair’s. He was kneeling between her legs, his sandy curls bobbing in his enthusiasm, while her bare thighs were splayed over his shoulders. Lynn moaned, long and loud, as she jerked against Cullen’s face. Emma knew Cullen’s technique well—judging by the way Lynn’s hips twitched, he was moving in slow circles, curling under the hood and swiping over the top of her clit. He would switch to short zig zags soon, and if he was feeling particularly naughty, start spelling Lynn’s name.

Emma felt Alistair’s thick finger press against her entrance, and that small bit of pressure nearly undid her. He felt the hitch in her hips, heard the pitch of her gasps, and doubled his efforts. The tightening in her core was so intense, Emma wasn’t sure if she was about to come or if she already came. And then, finally, the pressure released; her whole world narrowed to a sharp pinpoint for a split second before exploding into a universe of color and sensation and wetness as she gushed around his fingers. She grasped Alistair’s hair, just to ground herself for a moment. Without those soft, ginger locks, she would float away—she just knew it. Distantly, she heard Lynn’s breath change in pitch. Cullen had moved off to the side, so Emma could clearly see he had three fingers in her, scissoring wide while he suckled her clit gently. A muscle in his wrist twitched as he curled one finger upward, pressing hard enough to lift Lynn’s hips. Lynn was biting her bottom lip so hard, for a moment Emma feared she would bleed. Her high pitched moans were a beautiful counterpoint to Cullen’s dark, low purring. She gripped the back of the sofa as she rode out her orgasm on his hand.

Alistair pulled his fingers out of Emma, and they were slick with her juices; “Holy Maker, when you get wet, you get _wet._ ”

She flushed, grasping his wrist. She pressed her lips against his fingers, sliding each long digit into her mouth. She swirled her tongue unsubtly along the length and released them with an obscene, wet pop. She reveled in the hitch in Alistair’s breath.

“Maybe,” he practically moaned as Emma skated her hands over his hips. “Maybe we should get the girls on the bed?”

“Excellent idea,” Cullen replied darkly, pressing Lynn deeper into the sofa. “More options that way.”

Alistair slid his hand around the small of Emma’s back, turning her so she light perpendicular to her pillows, splayed across the foot of her bed. His rough fingertips skated up over her stomach, tickling across her ribs, coming to rest just over her collarbone before he cupped her jaw oh-so-tenderly. He swept in for a kiss, a quick press of lips, before he pulled away once more, waiting for Cullen and Lynn.

Lynn was laid next to Emma, her head somewhere in the area of Emma’ hips. Cullen worked at the laces of his breeches, yanking them off as he settled between Lynn’s hips. Emma couldn’t help it—she reached out for him. The familiar give of his hips, the feel of the hair across his legs, eventually gave way for the neatly-trimmed thatch of dark, golden girls above his impressive length. She skimmed her fingers over the velvet-soft skin, watching it twitch beneath her hands. Lynn had a firm grip on Alistair’s ass, yanking at his breeches. He chuckled slightly, bending to kiss his wife, before shedding the offending obstacles.

He was no slouch—perhaps not as long as Cullen but easily just as thick, if not thicker. Lynn pumped up and down the length with an insistent fist, rolling his foreskin back to reveal the dark purple head. Alistair’s breath hitched, and Emma groaned loudly, licking her lips in a hungry gesture.

Lynn giggled; “Impressive, isn’t he?”

Emma quirked her brow, feeling a surge of female pride; “Wait until Cullen gets his hands on you.”

“Too late,” Cullen growled playfully. He hitched Lynn’s slim thigh over his shoulder, opening her wide. He ran his head over her entrance gently before pushing in with one smooth motion.

Lynn groaned long and loud, her voice low and guttural—a stark contrast to her breathy intonation. Alistair got Emma in a similar position, one leg over his shoulder, before pressing forward. Emma was sopping, and she could hear the soft, popping evidence of her arousal as Alistair gently moved against her.

“Holy Maker, she’s wet,” Alistair sighed, rolling his hips forward.

“Marvelous, isn’t she?” Cullen’s eyes turned on Emma, quirking his brow. He turned on Lynn with a skillful snap of his hips. Lynn let out a breathless gasp, and Cullen stopped, screwing up his face in concentration. “Andraste preserve me; she has incredible… control.”

The boys’ control would not last long—that much Emma could tell. Alistair was already starting to take on a more insistent rhythm, and Cullen’s ass was dimpling in the side the way they did when he was trying—and failing—to hold back. Lynn looked so beautiful, with her long legs wrapped around Cullen’s slim hips; her pert breasts shook with Cullen’s motions. Emma couldn’t hold back—she had to touch her.

Emma slid her hand over Lynn’s hip, between her splayed thighs, and found her clit. Lynn arched when Emma circled her soft fingers over the place of Lynn and Cullen’s joining. Emma could feel him pumping in and out of Lynn, her knuckles occasionally brushing against his damp length as he sank into the other woman. Emma twitched slightly, but opened her legs when she felt Lynn’s hands. Once her long fingers began swirling over Emma’s pearl, she began to descend. Alistair snapped his hips against her with a breathless gasp. Cullen was moaning low and deep in his chest. Lynn was bucking against Emma’s fingers, and Emma against Lynn’s.

“Maker’s breath,” she heard Alistair gasp, and then a muffled moan.

Curious, Emma allowed her gaze to wander and she wondered if she was dreaming. Cullen had a fistful of Alistair’s hair; Alistair was gripping Cullen’s bicep. They were crashing together in a fevered, clumsy, pleasure-clouded kiss. It was less the confident slide of lips and tongues they were used to and more them panting into each other’s mouths. Their foreheads were pressed together as they broke their kiss, their moans lingering with the girls’.

Emma sank into a sea of sensation—touching Cullen, touching Alistair, touching Lynn… they were a tangle of bodies eagerly rutting against each other. Breasts and muscles moved as one; long hair was fisted in rough fingers. The whole room smelled like sex. Emma’s whole body was covered in a fine sheen of sweat. Lynn began the quick descent with her pitched moans and sharp gasps. She arched from the bed, fisting the coverlet under her fingers, while Cullen’s hips snapped erratically against hers. His groans took on a falsetto quality as he quickened his pace.

Emma felt her orgasm build, watching them. She reached for Alistair, and he fell onto her, clutching her in his strong arms. She wrapped her legs around his staccato hips and latched onto his ear with a broken gasp.

“ _Fuck,”_ Alistair growled, and the rare curse pushed Emma over the edge. She controlled her moan, sucking Alistair’s earlobe between her teeth, as she felt herself fly apart under him. With a three more sharp, slow pumps and a jagged cry, she felt Alistair come inside of her.

Emma’s heart was pounding in her chest as Alistair tried to catch his breath, burrowed in her shoulder. She heard Cullen hiss when he pulled out of Lynn; “Anything I can get you?”

“Water, if you have it,” Lynn rasped, languid and spent in her afterglow.

“Water, coming up,” Cullen winked, pressing a soft kiss against Lynn’s cheekbone. “Alistair? Angel? Anything?”

“Water for me too, please,” Emma asked, nuzzling against Cullen’s palm when he cupped her cheek.

“I’m good,” Alistair quipped, pulling out of Emma and flopping down next to his wife. Lynn giggled while she adjusted herself, resting her head on his chest. It was such an intimate pose, but Lynn’s heated eye contact with Emma kept her feeling… included. Then, Alistair’s hand grazed over her thigh in a soft, affectionate gesture.

Once everyone was squared away and taken care of and the windows were thrown open to let in some fresh air, they ended up a big tangle of bodies on Emma’s bed. Cullen had her spooned against him with one hand on her hip and one on Lynn’s. Lynn was stroking Emma’s hair with one hand and cupping Emma’s free hand with the other, entwining their fingers, her head on Alistair’s chest. Alistair was stroking Lynn’s upper arm with one hand, Emma’s thigh with the other. Emma could feel the occasional slide of Cullen and Alistair’s hands touching—a tentative brush of fingers that promised more.

Considering their activities, it was a shockingly intimate moment. Emma had never felt closer to three people than the nude royals and Commander in her bed at the moment. She hoped—prayed—that this wouldn’t be the last time she would see them, get to _be_ with them.

Lynn must have seen the uncertainty in her eyes, because she grinned wickedly; “We should do this again sometime.”

Alistair chuckled, nodding enthusiastically. Cullen tightened his arm around Emma and purred appreciatively. Emma had to return Lynn’s Cheshire smile.

“Agreed.”

**Author's Note:**

> For felandaris, who prompted me on Tumblr to eradicate this plot bunny. Now, I may not be able to let it go. 
> 
> More may come.


End file.
